


D is for Dangerous

by mof



Series: Deputy Miller's Grand Expedition of Being a Hope County Whore [1]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, F/M, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Knife Play, Piercings, TRANS deputy!, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, almost anyway. Shes damn near there, dick sucking!, dom female deputy, herald!deputy, johns probs ooc, sub john seed, theyre gross! What can i say :), this is super horny btw, tony is trans shes got a weiner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23455600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mof/pseuds/mof
Summary: "D is for Delightful and try and keep your trousers onI think you should know you're his favourite worse nightmare"Deputy Tony Miller isn't a complicated woman. Really, she's not! She enjoys shooting the shit with her best buds, fist fights, and her worst enemy giving her the best blowjob she's had in fucking years.
Relationships: Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed
Series: Deputy Miller's Grand Expedition of Being a Hope County Whore [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687366
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	D is for Dangerous

The details of how their little arrangement began to flower are blurry and disorganized. All Tony knows is that one day she puts a knife through the wall, dangerously close to his head, keeping him in place, the blade cutting through his clothes and pinning him by his collar to the wall. 

She _should_ gut him like a fish, should take this opportunity to end the suffering in Holland Valley, should get revenge for the pain he's caused. Instead, she just stares him out, watches him struggle against the knife, tries not to let himself get cut on the jagged edges of it, watches his arms (which are ridiculously toned and fill out his sleeves in a stupidly sexy way) flex as he reaches up to try pull the knife out. 

She's got him cuffed and his arms hanging above his head before he can even get a grip on the blades handle, the short metal of the cuffs barely giving any movement space and cutting sharply into his wrist. She was smart enough to cuff his hands above the deer head he had nailed to the wall, keeping him firmly in place. 

"Didn't take you for a sadist, Deputy," he says smoothly, like being threatened with a knife and cuffed was some kind of invitation. Hell, at this point, it was- they're both into freaky enough shit to consider this a proposition. 

"You don't  _ know  _ me, Seed," Tony seethes back, pulling the knife out of his collar roughly and tracing his cheekbones with it, not ignoring the hiss he lets out,  _ definitely  _ not ignoring the way his hips buck up at it. 

"I know enough about you to know you're into filthy shit like this," He sneers, smiling something that was more like he was baring his teeth than anything else. Tony hums at this, sounding delighted as she continues to trace around his face with her knife, nicking his cheek a little bit, watching as his knees buckle just that little bit as blood trickles from the cut. 

"Wouldn't call cuffs and knife play  _ filthy,  _ John," She finally says his name as she moves from his face to his throat, pressing the jagged edge to his jugular, and if he hadn't already radioed for his guards to back off for tonight, they probably would've burst in at the moan he let out, a pathetic, high pitched and strangled sounding thing. 

"Oh, then pray tell, what  _ do  _ you consider filthy," John pants, rests his chin on the blade, looks at her through lidded eyes, sticks his tongue out for just a second to wet his lips but it catches her eye anyway, everything he does drags her eyes away from his, frustrating considering she wants to stare him down, wants him to cower at her gaze, wants to let him know he’s not in control of this like he thinks he is. 

Only John Seed could be cuffed and have a knife to his neck and still think he had a handle on the situation.

She clenches her jaw, furrows her brow and pulls the knife away from him, not missing the way he chases after the blade. “That’s a need to know basis, Johnny Boy,” He grimaces at the nickname she has for him and she grins something wicked at him in response. 

“Well, considering you’ve got a knife to me and have cuffed me  _ in my own home,  _ I think I’m inclined to know,” John reasons, using his lawyer voice on her like it will somehow change her mind and give him the reins. She knows better than to fall for his honeyed words- she’s a Deputy, not one of his mindless cult freaks. 

She doesn't know  _ that  _ much better though, if she did she would've killed him and wouldn't be sleeping with him.

Taking her silence as an answer, he speaks again. “Alright, have it your way, I’ll call for the guards,” He simpers, adjusting his stance so he could pull her towards him with his leg, letting out a noise of frustration when she simply stands out of his way. 

“Will you? When you’re looking like this?” Tony gestures towards his stance with her knife, the way his arms up in the air and his shoulders are bunched up against the wall, his legs splayed wide open, bulge straining through his skinny jeans. John stammers, flushes down to his chest and Tony smirks, “Didn’t think so,” she sneers, and flips the knife so she doesn't  _ actually  _ stab John when she grabs his thighs and lifts him off of the ground, cackling at the yelp he let out at being picked up. 

He doesn't have much time to complain though, not when she pushes his back into the wall, keeps her hands hooked under his thighs and presses into him fully, the both of them humming appreciatively at the contact. They lock eyes, John's ever crumbling confidence whenever he's around her clear in the way he can't keep his eyebrows furrowed when he looks at her, the way his ears turn red and he looks away. 

She drops him abruptly, John barely getting his feet on the ground properly before she flips the knife back towards him and presses the tip firmly into his sternum, not hard enough to cut, but enough to still him completely. "I'm going to uncuff you, just for a second,"She announces, immediately causing him to look back up. As she speaks, she undoes the buttons on his waistcoat ("Is he wearing a fucking waistcoat? What a tool," “Keep it down, Miller,") with her knife, making surprisingly quick work of such a complicated task. "Can you promise you won't try to bolt?" She's kept her eyes on him the entire time, eyes burning into him. 

He wants to kiss her, stupidly enough. They never do that- strictly no strings, considering she'll eventually either have to arrest him or kill him. Doesn't stop him wanting though. " _ Surely _ you can't expect that of me," He watches the knife instead of her, knows if he keeps looking at her he's gonna do something they're  _ both  _ gonna regret, more so than they already do. 

"Oh, I'm expecting it from you alright. You so much as breathe whilst you're uncuffed and this knife is going  _ much  _ more than skin deep," As if to prove her point, she wastes no time in unbuttoning his shirt down like she did his waistcoat and instead just slices through the expensive fabric like it's butter, blade tantalizingly close to his skin. 

"Don't threaten me with a good time, Deputy," John huffs, risks looking back up at her and  _ God  _ does he regret it. She's got this glint in her eye that threatens him wordlessly, this permanent curve of her lip that always makes her look amused. She has a smattering of freckles and a littering of scars and bone structure that looks like it was carved from marble and he's stupid for it but he's  _ obbsessed  _ with her. He's drunk on nothing but her appearance. The second he saw her in Joseph's church he knew he was gone but he didn't expect  _ this. “ _ Fine, I won’t bolt,” he drops his shoulders (or tries to anyway) and submits to her.

“Good boy,” She hums, holstering her knife as she reaches up to uncuff him, John instantly relaxing his wrists that have been rubbed raw from the metal, gasping at the feeling of release. He wants to pull his wrists back into himself so he can sooth where they’ve cut into him, but feels her hands on him instead and feels safer in her hands than he ever has in his own or Joseph’s. 

She pulls his arms back down gently only to spin him around and crash his face into the wall roughly, completely destroying any prior softness he had in his heart for her as she cuffs him again like she does when she’s on the job, drags him by his cuffed wrists backwards until he can feel her drop his ass into a chair, one of his expensive dining table ones no doubt, and he hears her unholster her knife behind him and feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 

The cold edge of the knife touches his jugular again and he nicks his skin on it when bucking his hips- hips that are then weighed down when Tony sits on his lap, spreading her legs over him fully and facing him and he can't help the " _ Shit, _ Miller," he grunts when she moves the knife away to press her thumb onto the cut, John grinding up into Tony at the stinging sensation. 

Surprisingly, she does little to stop him from grinding on her, only moves the back towards his face, running the engraved edges of it along his cheek before turning the blade into his skin, cutting a lovely little line into his temple that runs red down his face, catches in his beard and all the while he's bucking against her, only getting a portion of the friction he  _ really  _ wants thanks to the restriction of his jeans. 

Her other hand wraps around the chain he keeps the bunker key on, wraps it til it's tight around her knuckles and presses on his throat so that his breaths are more strained than they already are, her skin hot against his, the blood from earlier running down her fingers in little rivulets. 

She pulls the knife away from his temple, only to lean in and lick away a stripe of blood and he just about comes undone in his pants at it, at the metal sensation of her tongue piercing against it, groans into her neck and strains against the cuffs as he thrusts uselessly, throwing all inhibitions out of the window. In his ravenous search for any other form of contact, he feels her hands card through his hair and pluck his sunglasses right off of his head. 

"Whatcha think?" She asks as she sits back, John looking up to see her wearing his sunglasses and all he can think is that she is fucking  _ radient.  _ She's got his blood on her hands and a little on her lip and god if it wasn't for these  _ fucking cuffs.  _

He wets his lip with his tongue before saying "I think you ought to give me them back," and once again she wears this delightfully perfect grin like she could never do any wrong and if it wasn't for his own sense of self preservation he probably would have broken the chair by now to get to her. "I'm serious they cost like 500 bucks,"

Tony's eyes bulge at that before she relaxes again "You paid 500 bucks for a pair of fucking sunglasses?" she snorts, thinking back to a time when that kind of money could've gotten her out of some really shitty places, i.e living in a one room apartment with Pratt during their training days. "Pride becomes you, John, and everyone knows Pride's a sin," Tony tsks as she presses the tip of the knife into his breastbone, his breath hitching when she leads it gently to rest under his right nipple, scratching as his skin as she did so. 

He knows what's coming next and the idea of such a reversal of roles has him panting as Tony slides of his lap and in between his legs, presses the knife against his rib, her knife slicing his skin cleanly as she decoratively carves his sin onto him, the blade working so precisely that to John it doesn't feel like anything other than pure  _ bliss,  _ and not the stuff Faith makes- that just makes him nauseous.

No, the way she angles the tip so it dances along his surface is nothing more than absolute, pure pleasure. He feels his hair fall down from where she messed it up as he keens into her, the way she never leaves his skin and only now does he realize she's been writing in  _ cursive.  _ How the  _ fuck  _ is she doing  _ that _ . "How the fuck are you doing that?" 

"I was a tattoo artist before this, John, just like you. Steady hands make for clean work," She responds calmly, like she isn't halfway between his thighs and they're both not hard as nails and she's not  _ tantalizingly  _ close to him. She lifts the knife from his skin, admires the slight tremble of his skin when she thumbs the raw flesh, gently wiping away the blood beading around the lettering, "Helps that you're a  _ wonderful  _ subject," She says with so much purpose, John knows  _ exactly  _ what she's doing, knows he's wrapped around her little finger and does  _ nothing  _ to fight against it. 

He wants to be hers. 

He  _ needs  _ to be hers. 

She kneels back to admire her hand work, tapping the tip of the knife against her lip as she observes before a smile spreads over her face and she nods. "Not bad, if I say so myself," she says before looking up to him and  _ something  _ in her face changes. Her smile falters, drops suddenly and then she's staring at him like how she stares at something she  _ loves.  _

She knows better. 

But not that much better. 

She's back in his lap in a second and kissing him with so much desperation you'd think it was her last. John is beside himself for a few moments before reacting, kissing her back feverently, revelling in the feeling of her hands in his hair and these  _ stupid fucking  _ **_cuffs._ **

"These cuffs need to come off," He mutters between breaths, between gasps when she catches his lip between her teeth, between moans from the sensation of her piercing against his tongue. She's already a step ahead of him though, hands fumbling for the keys in her pockets, shucking her jacket off once she finds them and the second his wrists are free his hands are on her, splayed across her hips and pulling her shirt out from where it's tucked into her pants. 

She parts just for a second so she can pull her shirt over her head then she's back on him like a rash, one hand on his face, thumb pressing into one of the cuts and God he could  _ weep  _ over how hard he is, feels her grind against him and they both stop kissing to just groan loudly into each others open mouths, foreheads resting on each other, sweaty with messy hair trapped between them. 

She experimentally rolls her hips against his again and they both hiss at the contact, John moving to kiss at her jaw as she continues the ministrations, both panting hotly, especially as she damn near tears his shirt right off his shoulders and how could he  _ forget  _ how  _ effortlessly  _ strong she is. He shudders at the cold on his skin, how it contrasts how hot he  _ actually  _ is, and then all the heat is gone from him as Tony stands up off of him, dragging him up with her. 

"How expensive is your couch?" She asks between kisses, stumbling backwards in the direction of it as she drags them both towards it, arms moving from holding onto his arms to fiddling with his belt and his mind blanks. He doesn't actually answer, just repays the favour and starts undoing her own belt as he goes back to kissing her, Tony feeling the back of her knees hit the couch and as she sits, John's quick to follow. 

With a final tug, John's belt is off and Tony's quick to stick her hands behind his knees and pull him forward onto her lap, thighs stretching over her as she's sat with her legs wide open and John is honestly lost for words at the sight of her. There's something so holy about her, about the air of confidence she always has. She's marked with ink and scars and she's fucking  _ gorgeous.  _

"You're fucking _ gorgeous,"  _ He blurts out, as if if he isn't absolutely stunning right now. He's got smudges of blood on him and his usually immaculate hair has fallen down his face and he's got a lovely, rosy blush all over his body right down to his shoulders. Tony moves her hands from behind his knees, puts one on his hip bone and rubs at his new pride scar on his rib and they both know something's  _ changed.  _

They lock eyes, a silent promise almost. It's the strangest form of trust Tony's ever experienced. Not for John, John's had faceless cultists trust him not to drown them during the baptising, trust him when he's tattooing their sin onto their body, trust him when he's carved said skin right off their so they could Atone. And yet, it's never felt this intimate before. The eye contact of countless, faceless nobodies will never amount to half as much as Tony's does to him. 

Her eyes aren't even that interesting to an outsider or even to herself.  _ They're just brown _ , she says, but that's not even true, they're the most fantastic shade of  _ hazel  _ that in direct sunset light they're practically amber, and in white lights they're green, and all John's ever known is the piercing blue of his brothers eyes and the countless, faceless, eyeless nobodies he baptizes. 

Her hands on him bring him back to his senses, her hands that have brought nothing but ruin and destruction to his forces. She's moved her hands from his sin to catch his hand, John taking extreme notice in how her thumb glides gently across his own equally deadly hands as she guides him back to her belt. 

He goes easily, doesn't put up half as much fight as he probably should have, doesn't  _ want  _ to fight it. He wants to make her happy. He wants and wants and  _ wants  _ and when her thumbs brush against his skin and she presses a kiss right on the cut on his jugular from earlier he realizes he can  _ have.  _

He begins working at her belt again quickly, finally getting it open, pulling it out of the loops and unzipping her jeans, Tony hissing at the freedom from her tight jeans into his neck, John feeling her bare her teeth against his jugular and whimpering quietly before moving back to kiss her again, teeth clacking against each other accidently causing them both to laugh into the kiss. 

It doesn't continue quite as sweet as the laughter would imply it should, not once John actually gets his hands on her. No, she goes from sweet to biting down on his bottom lip harshly in a second, John exhaling from his nose deeply as they both fiddle with eachothers boxers, Tony claiming his mouth once again as she learns forward into his space, John's back awkwardly arched. 

He gasps loudly into her mouth and throws his arms around her broad shoulders when she pulls him forward roughly and she finally,  _ finally,  _ pulls their dicks out of their boxers, her large, tattooed hard wrapping around both of them. They both moan into the others mouth, pleasure shuddering through their body as Tony begins to move her hand, the dry friction soon disappearing and making way for the sloppiness of their precum- they've been at this for a while now, as evident by how soaked John was. 

"You've got big  _ f-fucking _ hands," John gasps, his hips stuttering at Tony's actions as she speeds up, matching her little thrusts to her hand movements. She huffs a laugh out in response to John's comment which quickly turns into a groan when John's own hand joins hers, touching her where her own hand can't. Which is,  _ wow,  _ John thinks, because she's  _ big.  _ She's taller than him, broader than him, bigger hands than him,  _ bigger everything  _ than him, and he kind of  _ likes  _ being made to feel small. Likes the control being ripped out of his hands.  _ God fuck, _ he thinks he's falling in love. 

“I got big  _ everything _ , babydoll,” She pants at him, rubs her thumb over both of their heads at the same time and John just about cums then and there, barely pulling himself back from the edge in time, kissing Tony again and pressing his forehead onto hers, eyes screwed shut as his spare hand scrambles for something to hold, landing in her hair and pulling harshly, earning him a punched out gasp that stopped Tony’s hand still and made her slap away his own hand off of her. 

Oh no he’s pissed her off.

He dares to peek an eye open at her and can see she’s bright red and  _ furious _ and he feels that fury when she, with the subtlety of a foghorn, pushes him off her lap, landing roughly on his ass. He wants to stand back up and throw an absolute shitfit about it but by the time he gets on his knees to stand, she’s fully stood up and  _ oh, he gets it now.  _

She puts her hands on him, one on top of his head, the other on his neck and gently guides him up to look at her and  _ fuck _ she is an absolute  _ picture.  _ That angry look on her face is gone, replaced by something much more subtle. She’s still got a slight frown, but he knows what she wants, and God he wants it too, wants her to just shove her cock down his throat already. Fuck him on it til hes gagging and to keep going after that too. He  _ needs _ her to use him, to throw him away after too.

God he’s got some fucking issues.

“Well? You know what to do,” Tony raises an eyebrow at him and he’s quick to do as she says, quick to wrap his mouth around her and when he feels her fingers tense on his skin, he’s got half the mind to call her out for doing this when they're both so close. He decides against it though, focuses on putting his hands on her hips and then opening up so he can take her whole, but even with an unhinged jaw, she’s still big. Bigger than a few of the other lawyers and bosses he used to take during the old days. It has been quite a while.

She doesn’t seem to mind his struggle however, the fingers in his hair twisting round and pulling and he can’t help the moan that escapes him, the one that vibrates and only causes her to pull harder as he hollows his cheeks and blows her like his life depends on it- because fuck, it actually might, considering how pissed off she was. That and he wants to make this good for her, wants to  _ be  _ good for her. 

“ _ S-shit,  _ John, you’re pretty damn good at this,” She praises him, moves her hand from his neck onto his jaw, thumb resting on his cheekbone, back onto the cut from way earlier and  _ goddamnit _ at this rate he’s gonna cum before she does. He moves one hand off of her hip onto her dick and uses that on the parts of her he can’t reach with his mouth, using twisting motions in sync with his mouth and that makes her hip stutter, thrusting into his mouth, not deep, but shallow enough to almost drop his hands and just let her  _ use _ him. 

He looks up at her, hoping that conveys a clear enough message and sure as shit her hand drops off his jaw and grips his hair as she shoves herself the rest of the way in and John moans loud enough to actually scare himself with how much he wants this. Maybe she should be the Herald instead. She’s scary enough to be one. Strong enough too, considering she’s- quite literally-almost fucking his brains out.

She fucks his throat, doesn’t stop him when he drops his hands down to touch himself. He’s wetter than before he’s surprised to find out. He hasn’t even been touched. He wants to laugh at it, but instead moans when he comes in contact with himself around Tony’s dick and the way her cock hits the back of his throat sets a good rhythm for him to fuck his fist to, jerking up into his hand with reckless abandon, sloppy and wet with little to no resistance from the brutal pace she’s setting for him. 

It doesn’t take much longer for either of them it seems, but John’s the first to go. Tony sees him edging and torturing himself and decides to help out, sticks her boot into his jeans and into the space between his balls and asshole and the pressure has him cumming between his own fingers in seconds of the boot being there, his moans and groans of pleasure causing Tony to cum down his throat shortly after, pressing in so deep John’s nose is touching her hot skin and he’s partially worried she’ll get beard burn for a few seconds. 

The look on her face when he swallows all of her  _ does _ make him laugh this time, a little snort at how amazed she looks, despite her legs feeling like jelly and the way her body trembles because her knees are knocking together. He pushes her thighs away when she pulls out and she crumples down on the couch, John shuffling forward on his knees to rest his face on her thighs and she  _ really  _ can’t take her eyes off of him.

“Who,” She starts breathlessly, “The  _ fuck  _ taught you to give head like that?” She asks, chest heaving, huffing upwards to move her hair out of her eyes. John shrugs as he tucks her back into her boxers (he always gets nervous afterwards, needs something to do with his hands) and does the same for himself, cringing at the way he has to wipe himself on his own jeans. 

“You gotta get around Las Vegas somehow,” He responds, “Los Angeles too. New York as well now that I think about it. I got to higher places with my mouth in more than one way,” John winks and she rolls her eyes at him, puts her hands back in his hair to smooth it back into place, even if she does like it messy. 

“You always been such a little slut?” She questions and he goes bright red at it, buries his face into her pants and only burns brighter when she laughs at him, this musical little thing that he can't help but want to hear more of.

To think this started because she threw a knife at him. She's still got his fucking sunglasses on he realizes.4

“Only when I feel like it,” He simpers, smiles fully when Tony sticks her tongue out at him, the silver ball of her piercing shining from the light. “And just then? Oh, I felt like it,”

“Hope you feel that way again, Johnny Boy, because that shit was award winning,”

“I’ll file that one away under my lust mark,” He points at the crudely cut ‘Lust’ on his right pec and Tony laughs as she sits up proper and points at the one he left her underneath her left tit. 

“And then we can match,” Is the last thing she says before she's pulling him up into her lap again and kissing the soul out of him.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if shrimp or jesse ever find this i just want you to know im sorry  
> Also any inconsistencies in the plot r bc when i started writing this i was still like denying feelings for john and then i got really . Attached to him erhdigrf  
> My tumblr is @spiderant! Come say hi!


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